


Beyond Comprehension

by ofdogsandwriting



Category: South Park
Genre: Blood, Cultists, Eldritch, Horror Tropes, Kysterion, M/M, Monsters, no beta we die like men, sacrificial ceremonies, suspicious fog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21969667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofdogsandwriting/pseuds/ofdogsandwriting
Summary: Smokey and grey, with undertones of purple and green that would be left unnoticed to the untrained eye. Despite the abnormality, the fog felt dangerously comforting, yet it was unnatural, it was not supposed to be here. He wondered if Kyle felt similarly to him.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Kenny McCormick, Kyle Broflovski/Mysterion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 64





	Beyond Comprehension

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for the k2secretsanta on Tumblr and made for the cool user herefortaxevasion!
> 
> I went a little out of my comfort zone to write some good old horror (I do enjoy horror sometimes though, just not used to writing it lol). I tried to squeeze in as many tropes as I could with a cohesive plot. It turned out a little longer than intended though, I hope that's okay, and I hope you like it!

“We’re here.”

The question danced on the tip of his tongue, where is here, here looked like nowhere. As the darkness of night consumed light, fog swirled at their ankles. With each passing step, it drew closer, moved higher, consumed everything around it.

Questions never fit his persona, he opted to remain silent, to stew in his own thoughts of what happened to the place they once called home.

“It’s so different,” he spoke again. “I don’t remember South Park ever being this foggy.” Suspicion and wariness was clear on his features as he reached out, like he could physically touch the fog as it grew thicker. The flashlight he held barely managed to illuminate a foot ahead of them.

Smokey and grey, with undertones of purple and green that would be left unnoticed to the untrained eye. Despite the abnormality, the fog felt dangerously comforting, yet it was unnatural, it was not supposed to be here. He wondered if Kyle felt similarly to him.

His eyes met Kyle’s as unnatural sounds filled the air, distant guttural cries echoed like a soft song. Soft enough to be forgotten, but close enough to feel a threat.

“That doesn’t matter,” Kyle set his jaw, ignoring the unearthly connection they felt, eyes set firmly ahead of himself, as though he could set the fog ablaze and clear a path to his destination. “I’m going to find him,” his fist clenched at his side. “I don’t care how long it takes.”

Mysterion stepped closer to him, a subtle gesture of comfort. Perhaps for the both of them, sating the anxiety churning in his stomach. He came for his own selfish reasons. The fog had consumed and taken, it took away a source of life, a reason he still felt alive, someone that meant the world to him, and nothing to it. 

They shared the same sentiment.

His first words in hours finally spilled, “I know. We’ll find Ike,” _ we’ll find Karen, _ he wanted to say so desperately, to tell someone that she was missing, that his parents were barely concerned, for someone to fucking care, but he stood still as a statue. “We’ll find all of the children,” it was the closest admission he could make.

Mysterion would have come alone, and dealt with any obstacle in his way to find Karen and the other missing children, but as Kenny was with Karen, Kyle was an unstoppable force when it came to Ike’s safety and happiness. It was a lost battle the moment the missing posters went up. There was no stopping Kyle Broflovski when he had his mind set, he would have went alone, as would Kenny.

And so Mysterion joined him, the vigilante of South Park returning once more to bring justice to those that have been wronged, and this time, there was hell to pay.

Kids the age of fourteen and younger had been disappearing from the streets of South Park for awhile now. Mysterious murders of adults in unnatural ways followed. Any witnesses to such murders became incomprehensible, unable to utter a word aside of nonsense. Some even muttered about it being ‘beautiful’.

The police and the media came to the conclusion that a pack of wild animals had been killing people, and wrote it off as nothing significant. Then, the children started disappearing from neighboring towns. South Park had been evacuated, though some people refused to leave. Those that never left suffered a fate worse than death, the evidence left behind in splatters on the street beneath a flashlight and streaks on the windows, no witnesses to hear their screams.

He tried to ignore the thought of it being too late, that maybe the children were-

“What the fuck,” Kyle’s voice echoed in the emptiness.

Mysterion peered over to a shop window Kyle stared into. He saw the bloodied hand prints smeared downwards and disappear into the shop, a permanent mark left behind of the tragedy that took place. Kyle’s eyes were focused elsewhere, and as he stepped closer, he saw the body beneath the windowsill inside, highlighted in the faint glow of his flashlight.

Bloody and horrific was an understatement, the man appeared as though he had blown up from the inside, crimson paint splattered on the walls and floor.

Kyle looked away in horror, Mysterion remained fixated, seeing his own body mauled in much more horrendous ways than the victim that suffered. It made an uncomfortable numbness settle in his stomach.

“I don’t think anyone’s here anymore. I think anyone that stayed-” he paused, and Mysterion finished his sentence.

“Died.” Mysterion moved on, as though he had only stopped to admire a flower.

“How could any animal do this?” Kyle’s steps echoed behind him.

“Because an animal didn’t do this.”

“So what, a murderer did that? Did you see his body?”

He spared a glance to him before looking ahead again. “Sometimes things happen, sometimes there’s no explanation or reasoning, there’s no significance in it. No animals or a murder was involved.” No, how it looked, it did not appear humanly possible from anything he had seen. “It seemed,” he paused, “otherworldly.”

“What, like a ghost, or aliens? Come on, Mysterion, you can’t possibly believe in ghosts. There has to be a logical explanation for this.” He stated as a fact, as though the world was an equation with an answer laid out.

“Maybe logic isn’t involved,” he answered cryptically. He could feel Kyle’s frustration burning into his back alongside the eyes of the unknown watching his every movement, but he stared ahead, moving forward. “Not everything can be solved so easily, Kyle. You’re smart, but you let logic cloud your judgement.” He narrowed his eyes into the thick layers of fog, challenging any being that dared to reveal itself.

Kyle and Kenny specifically disagreed on this subject.

“I thought you of all people would believe in reasoning. There’s no such thing as ghosts, or aliens, or the unexplainable, Mysterion! This is reality, not some novel or horror movie about wendigos, there’s an explanation for all of this!” He could picture Kyle frustratedly gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “See, look, there’s some lit candles ahead, maybe there is a murderer around- or someone is still alive that can tell us what happened.” The streets were as empty as his excuses.

“Does me being immortal make sense to you?!” He finally snapped, and the silence he received felt like a victory. “This isn’t normal, Kyle,” he growled. “This isn’t right. It’s not supposed to be like this. What explanation is there for any of this. Some candles, really?”

The candles flickered, hollow of life, the warmth never extending their arms and weaving to them. It was a dim light that fought in a losing battle against the fog. It was strange, Mysterion agreed, as his eyes trailed to the tiny yellow specks in the distance, like tiny stars consumed by the fog.

Kyle was oddly silent.

“Mysterion,” Kyle’s voice came as a soft tune through the fog, as though it was just another sound of the filled ambiance, but the edge to it gave way. Faintly, he heard something foreign. No distant noise made sense, and nor did this one.

Slowly, Mysterion turned around, and the horrors of the unknown faced him. Something slithered and crawled with unnatural tentacles, disfigured limbs that imitated an octopus, winding their way around Kyle, threatening to consume him.

Kyle moved, and so did the unknown. It whipped away, then yanked him by the ankle into the fog, disappearing in the blink of an eye, flashlight clattering to the ground.

“Kyle!” Mysterion ran towards his disappearing figure, but the faster he moved, the more warped reality became. The fog drew closer until it suffocated his lungs, like a snake coiling around his chest, becoming a part of him, until all he could see was black.

Kyle could be dead, it could all be his fault for letting him be dragged into this incomprehensible hell.

“Kyle!” He screamed this time, more desperate, until the darkness consumed him.

Kenny awoke in his bed, unable to recall the dream he had been having. He got up, slipped on his ratty shoes and jacket, and went through his morning routine. He passed his father, mother, and brother on the couch, the only other souls in the household.

He stepped outside, looking to the mist that swirled the surroundings like a blanket over South Park, then to the stars of the early morning that hung high in the purple sky.

He met his friends at the bus stop.

Stan and Cartman were arguing again, the two assholes always had some kind of problem with each other.

Seeing Kenny brightened Stan’s mood tenfold though. Immediately, he was at his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Hey, how’s my super best friend doing? You still on for that movie tonight?”

Something itched, like he needed to correct Stan for something. Suddenly, everything felt wrong.

But he smiled, and said, “no, dude, I’m busy.”

“With what?” Stan asked curiously.

“Karen has piano lessons after school today, and I always walk with her,” he answered in a breeze, the memory clearly engraved in his mind. He could never forget her lessons.

_ Karen. _

He forgot about Karen.

“Where the hell is she?” He said defensively, body going tense. “What did you do to Kyle?”

“You catch on fast.” Stan glared at him. “Don’t ruin this for us.”

He realized this was a dream.

He gasped, awoke to distinct clicking and Kyle’s frantic breaths brushing his cheek. Mysterion inhaled, and a frozen hand met his words, clapped over his mouth so tightly it nearly hurt. Beyond the darkness, he met Kyle’s sharp eyes that lit his vision, full of fire and life, but something indistinguishable lingered beneath.

Kyle pointed to his eyes and shook his head, before cupping a hand over his ear and nodding.

At the gesture, Mysterion stared, unable to connect the communication. Perhaps he was still dreaming, Kyle could be another figure of the unknown, speaking foreignly without comprehension.

Pointedly, Kyle’s finger stuck outwards to the disfigured creature crawling down the stairs accompanied by the mesmerizing clicks. He saw it between the holes in the steps they huddled under, lumbering downwards, seemingly with purpose.

His eyes drew to the sword on the wall, recognizing the red hilt, other assorted items came to vision through the darkness, hastily forgotten objects in the rush to escape. Cartman’s basement.

No recollection of how he ended up here came to him.

Trusting Kyle, he remained silent as the being lingers, hissing softly in a foreign tongue, a language Mysterion could not understand, but feel in his mind. He cleared his head, fearful that the being could read his thoughts, everything was different here- whatever realm they have been forced into. He allowed fate to have its way with them.

The grotesque being crawled on its eleven limbs, spider-like and long like a snake, mouth open to reveal the mouth of a giant lamprey, no eyes, at least three ears.

The creature’s nose pressed into the steps, it’s fat snout too large to fit between the cracks, but slimy appendages around it’s mouth slipped through, reaching out to them, a sliver away from caressing Mysterion’s boot. It pressed forward, nose slamming into the wood, creaking under the weight, jostling everything beneath. It’s saliva seeped between jagged teeth, dripping onto the ground.

Kyle’s fingers curled around him tighter, unable to pull his eyes away. Cans rattled above, and Mysterion barely noticed he had been clutching onto Kyle with equal intensity. The creature pulled back, curiously tilting its head, the noise to its ears as foreign as Its presence in the earthly realm.

His eyes drew upwards, breath hitching at the sight of a loose jar on a shelf above him, precariously balanced in a losing battle against gravity. Kyle continued to pay no mind, memorized by the clicking, staring unblinkingly back at it, like a silent communication, either asking it to come closer, or to go away, and he could not tell which one it was.

Mysterion shook his shoulders to no avail. He grabbed his face and forced him to look at him. 

When Kyle met his gaze, he glanced up to the shelf, the other following. The transformation of realization followed by horror filled his eyes.

The jar tilted, swaying back and forth from the movement like a grand clock, until it tipped. Mysterion reached out and caught it. Silence followed, until another jar fell and shattered into a million pieces on the ground like a melody of death.

“Fuck!” Kyle cursed.

The eldritch being reared back, screeching in dismay before barreling into the stairs, wood splintering and shattering upon impact. Mysterion shoved Kyle out of the way, rolling with him a few feet from the stairs. He jumped onto his feet, pulling a dagger from the belt he kept on hand. It faced him, worm and tentacle-like appendages around its mouth extending outwards. Each step forward was a step backward for him.

He slipped on the creature’s saliva, falling back with a loud thud. It loomed over him victoriously, hissing unintelligibly. He crawled back frantically, but as it hovered above him, the saliva soaked his gloves and parts of his uniform, the slippery ooze preventing his movement. Countless teeth and tongues prepared to devour, to claim another lower life in the food chain. 

Before it could consume him, a horrid scraping sound filled the air, and the screech of dismay erupted twice-fold as the creature writhed in pain

Mysterion was able to get away because of the distraction. Its ears were extraordinarily sensitive to its surroundings, he realized.

He noticed Kyle with the sword, scraping it against the wall of the basement, drawing the same conclusion before he did.

It lunged at the source of the noise, and Kyle drew the sword upwards. He cried out as it bit into his arm, but the object impaled the horror’s head, and it slouched forward, limp. He winced, prying its mouth open and pulling his arm from it.

“That was incredibly stupid,” Mysterion reproached as Kyle flopped down on the forgotten couch, dropping the sword next to him. He wanted to be upset that Kyle once again put himself at risk for him, despite his curse that assured his own safety, but he could not find the anger, like water thrown onto a fire. “Take off your jacket.”

“Excuse me?” Affronted, Kyle made no such movement, until the deafening silence and judgmental glare of Mysterion became unbearable and forced him to comply.

He rummaged through the wreckage of the stairs until he found the first aid kit.

Kneeling down in front of Kyle, he observed the wound before pulling out disinfectant and bandaging. Thankfully nothing had been broken, but some jagged cuts ran deep. He pulled out some needle and thread after. No hospital was nearby, they had to make due.

“These things, they’re-“ Kyle winced at the prick of a needle, “The unexplainable really is real. It looked beautiful though, right?” He shook his head. “I mean that, compared to us, it seems so much more, and maybe that’s okay? Maybe you’re right, we’re just insignificant compared to whatever they are.”

Mysterion quirked a brow at Kyle’s struggles to articulate a cohesive sentence, something that he normally excelled in.

Finally, Kyle agreed with him, believed him.

“I don’t know if beautiful is the right word,” he stated. “What happened to you, Kyle? How did you find me?”

Kyle chewed his lower lip, brows furrowed, struggling. “That thing that grabbed me, I don’t think it was real, but I don’t know. What’s even real anymore anyways, right?” He shrugged, lips bitterly turned downwards. “The fog,” he picked at his pants pensively, “it’s like it was fucking with me, like it was playing some kind of game. It made me see things I didn’t want to see.”

“What did you see?”

“I’d rather not talk about it. I found you passed out and brought us here before that thing chased me.” Kyle extended a hand then, gently running a thumb along his cheek before cupping it. “I’m glad your okay.”

Mysterion yearned to pull off his gloves and rest his hand over Kyle’s, to remove his mask and intertwine their fingers, to kiss him sweetly. 

Their relationship was in a limbo. He remembered vividly of a time where he snuck into Kyle’s room as Mysterion, sharing a kiss of passion. Subtle exchanges of affection had been exchanged since then, but nothing solid, like they were playing a game of chicken.

He finished wrapping Kyle’s arm in bandaging before he leaned into the touch, holding a gloved hand over his. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against Kyle’s, tilting his head for a kiss.

Something felt wrong this time. Kyle liked Mysterion, he knew it the moment he approached him for help when he first wore the suit. Kenny loved Kyle. He fell hard for him some time during middle school, and since then, the feelings never went away. He was leading Kyle on, and for what? If he wanted to know him personally, there was only disappointment behind the mysterious mask Kyle clearly loved. Not someone that’s tall, dark, and handsome, hand crafted by God and equally as mysterious and cool as his heroic counterpart.

It would just be Kenny.

“Wait,” Mysterion pulled away, “Kyle, there’s something I need to tell you.” But maybe now, with nightmares of the unknown roaming the streets, was not the right time.

Attempting to hide the disappointment, Kyle crossed his arms, careful of the injury he sported. “What?”

“When this is over, I’ll tell you everything.”

“Everything, you mean-”

With a guttural cry, the fallen being suddenly sprung back to life, previous injuries healed as though nothing happened. It lunged for them again, limbs crashing into the ground as it blindly barreled forward.

Time felt as though it were in slow motion. Thinking quickly, Mysterion grabbed the sword at Kyle’s side. He waited until the creature’s tentacle tongues extended outwards and sliced them off. It let out another cry of outrage, rearing back. Mysterion then raised the sword and sliced the head off of it.

A strange black substance pooled on the ground at his feet.

“We should get out of here before that thing gets up again,” Kyle stated, staring at the grotesque sight with a barely refrained gag.

Mysterion helped him up the shattered stairs, carrying the weight of him as he clutched onto the remaining steps above.

Kyle had already been squirming up the ledge when the sound of a door clicking followed by chatter and shuffling from above echoed through the home. The voices drew uncomfortably close, their shadows looming above.

A false move could mean a loud noise, Mysterion stood as a statue, blending with the shadows beneath. Kyle remained suspended above him, pressed to the stairs as though he could merge with them.

Their footsteps echoed.

Closer.

Closer.

Mysterion felt his jaw nearly crack from his clenched teeth, the hooded figures covered in brown robes stood just above the stairs. Kyle was exposed in the dim light of a candle one held. There was nowhere for him to hide.

Obscured by their hoods, only a slight turn of the head would reveal the invaders.

“Tonight, we summon one of The Great Old Ones. It is a sacred ceremony. I hope you are prepared for the magnificence.”

The other figure acknowledged with a slight bow of the head. “I am unworthy to witness the rebirth.” 

“As we all are.”

“And Master of R'lyeh’s child?”

“Whom?” hesitance, followed with recognition, “They are of no concern. We have enough children, The Great Old one is in no need of them. Come now, leave your earthly possessions behind. We leave now.”

The one turned in the opposite direction of the stairs, followed by the other.

It was not until the shuffling of objects being placed on a table and click of the door closing did either of them move.

Mysterion jumped up and kicked off of the wall. He grabbed onto the ledge of the stairs and hauled himself up. Kyle was already up the stairs, turning the home over as he approached the living room.

“Kyle?”

“They talked about the kids. I think they’re going to them now. Maybe they left something important behind.” He shook his head. “No, we should follow after them.” They had a clue, and Kyle was prepared to leap on it before anything could rip it from his hands.

Mysterion’s gaze turned to the kitchen, and from the angle he stood, he noticed something on the table.

He looked down to the open book as he approached, a page titled “The Ancient Ritual” stared back. 

Kyle wandered in, picking the book up without a second thought, closing it to stare at the title before skimming through some of the contents.

His eyes drifted to another, smaller notebook on the table, open as well. In it contained handwritten nonsense about the beauty of The Old Ones.

“Mysterion, there’s a map here. It’s of the area, and a nearby place is highlighted on it.” He read through the page next to it. “There’s an Old One sleeping in the mountain. I think this is where they’re keeping the kids. It talks about a sacrifice to permanently connect the realms and releasing one of the Old Ones sleeping within. The consequences on the earth could be catastrophic from what it says, but the cultists don’t seem to care.” Kyle flipped through a few more pages, skimming over the contents for the answers he sought. “All of these creatures we’ve seen, they’re not the Old Ones, but an extension of their civilization. All are immortal, as all are ancient.”

“That thing we fought, whatever it is. It was immortal.” He paused, the next words hard to form in his mind, the sole weakness his powers had, an equal weakness his counterpart possessed, “I can be killed by another immortal. Kyle, I’m a mortal here.”

“Then that makes two of us.” Kyle closed the book and lifted it into his arms. “If that mountain is where the kids are, then we need to leave now. They said the ceremony is tonight.” Kyle wasted no time and left the house. Mysterion followed as his shadow.

Throughout their journey, Kyle read through the contents of the book, using a candle to illuminate the text on the pages. He claimed it was to understand what they planned to do in full detail, to better understand what the Cult of Chuthlu’s followers believe. Sometimes his eyes gleamed with delighted curiosity that made Mysterion hesitate and resist the urge to take the book from him.

His recent behavior was disconcerting.

The ancient book Kyle read from did not describe the maze-like pattern of the walled caves within the mountains, laid deep and empty, running further down the rabbit hole and beyond the limits of man.

It felt like years, time appeared a standstill, reality flexed and warped at every turn. The further they went, the less sense anything made, until reality felt like fiction. Kyle stood ahead of him, staring into the ecosystem running deep underground, like the cave held life within, the walls a mossy green, the waters purple, unfathomable beasts crawled like they belonged.

He found Kyle staring at them with wonder. Mysterion decided then to place a firm hand on his shoulder. “Kyle, are you okay?”

He blinked, as though he pulled himself out of a trance, forcing his eyes to meet his. Guilt swarmed in his eyes, like he had been caught doing something wrong, and he forced a nod with an assuring smile. “I’m fine, Mysterion. Don’t worry.” Bravely, a hand rose and rested over his. “I’m more worried about you. You could actually die here.”

The subject felt like an aversion, but he could see the honesty emitting from him. Kyle always wore his heart on his sleeve.

Kyle deserved to know the truth, if he were to die, it would be the worst way for him to find out.

“We’re here, by the way.” Kyle said and let go of his hand, clambering down the small cliff to approach- what Mysterion could assume- was a building resembling the beasts around it.

No. He wanted to tell him now.

“Hurry up, we have to hope the kids are okay.”

But it was not the right time.

It never was.

Mysterion followed him down the cliff side. As they approached the building, they began to see cultists forming outside. Inside the building, he assisted Kyle without luring attention, the first room they approached was swarming with cultists, seated in various places. 

“Get down,” he demanded. Following his order without question, Kyle ducked down behind the bench next to him.

The cultist leader stood at the center of the stage, encircled like a circus ring, preaching to his underlings of the rise of The Old One, of how the ceremony was soon to commence.

Mysterion silently gestured for the door and Kyle nodded. They only had one goal.

“Master of R'lyeh’s child will make a fine sacrifice,” the leader’s voice echoed as a symphony.

“We no longer need an eldritch born, the child had not been obtained in the masses,” a follower spoke. He could recognize the voice as one of the cultists they eavesdropped on before.

“He will come on his own.” The leader’s head turned then, looking directly towards where Mysterion hid. His blood ran cold, pressing himself to the bench as though that would shield him from his piercing gaze. “And he will be welcomed.”

The leader never revealed his hiding place, but only went back to preaching.

A rare emotion coiled around his chest, making it hard to breathe, reality crashing down on him like a tidal wave, mind whirling in panic. “We need to leave. Now.” He took Kyle’s hand. The response he received was a firm, reassuring squeeze of acknowledgement.

After scouting a few rooms, and a cellar that only contained various types of alcohol, they finally found them. All of the missing children, holed up in various cages, ankles and hands tied behind their backs.

Mysterion’s eyes flickered between them, recognizing a startling amount of the faces from the small mountainside town. He tuned out Kyle’s excited “Ike!” as he ran to the cage and reunited with his brother. Not even the bars could prevent the giant bear hug he gave his sibling.

“Okay, we’ve gotta get you all out of here. We’ll deal with the cultists after. Mysterion, what’s our plan?”

“No no no,” he muttered to himself.

“Mysterion,” Kyle began worriedly, cautiously, whatever look he had put him on edge, “what’s wrong?”

He faced Kyle with wide, worried eyes, “where’s Karen?” he croaked.

“They just took Karen, right before you came in.” Ike informed hurriedly while Kyle worked on the ropes around his wrists.

“Get the kids out of here. I’m going to get Karen.” In response, Kyle looked up to meet Mysterion’s alerted gaze, suspicion and realization. It was unspoken, but Kyle is smart, once a few pieces were together, the rest of the puzzle sorted itself out.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“You’d do the same thing.”

Kyle sighed at the truth spoken.

The leader’s voice rose above the surroundings, reverberating off the walls and running through the mock cathedral, beginning their first sacrifice of many.

He paled, running out the door without a second thought, ignoring Kyle’s cry of question. His feet carried him down the halls, through the open doors, and down the stairs to the centre of the ring where the leader stood. He saw Karen tied up next to him, terrified. She was on her knees with another cultist looming over her. 

The man lowered a blade then to claim her life, but Mysterion leaped in, scooping Karen into his arms, the knife slicing through the lower half of his cape like butter. He slid to a halt, holding her like a lifeline, steadying his shaking hands with his grip.

The tears that welled in her eyes roused a deep anger inside him. She blinked away the tears as she looked up at him, eyes glimmering with hope. “My guardian angel. You came.”

He withdrew the dagger from his belt and sliced away the ropes, helping her onto her feet.

“Ah, Mysterion, child of Cthulhu. I am overjoyed with your presence.” Mysterion drew close to Karen, pulling her behind him, shielding her from the leader. “I knew you would come for these children, caring for the offspring of cattle, just as ants are insignificant to humans. You are an enigma of the realms.”

He gestured to Karen, and continued, “such a wasted talent. You are something much greater, yet you use your gift to save only slivers humanity. We are but a shadow in the gift of the universe. You needn’t waste your time, great one.”

He pointed the knife at the leader, ignoring the whispers in his mind, grating his teeth that part of him agreed. “I’ll kill you right now for what you’ve done,” he growled with resolve.

The man only smiled beneath the hood, delighted. “It would be an honor, but I’m afraid I cannot die today.” Another man grabbed Karen from behind him, raising a blade to her throat. “What will you do to save this child, Mysterion? It’s just another human. There will be more.” Karen winced uncomfortably at the blade.

“Take me!” He shouted, “it’s what you want. Let all of the children go. You don’t need them.”

“Very well,” the leader smiled, as though in a play, the grand scheme of his plan playing out perfectly. “Drop the knife and we will.”

Reluctantly, he let go of the dagger. With a smooth wave of the arm, by command of the Cultist leader, his loyal follower let Karen go. She stumbled forward and grabbed onto him. “Mysterion, don’t, what they’re going to do-”

“I’ll be fine.” He leaned close to Karen and whispered to her, “find Kyle, he’s with the others.”

She was reluctant to leave him, but she moved, taking each step upwards until her figure disappeared in the halls above, unharmed, as promised.

They were going to be safe.

The man bound Mysterion’s wrists behind his back. Briefly, he considered fighting them, but any move out of line and the cultist could pull back on his word.

He was forced to his knees, looking downwards to the various markings engraved on the ground. The leader spoke in a language he barely understood, he could recognize the patterns of speech, but no understanding of what they meant.

He knew it was a ritual of sorts, a sacrifice, and the uncertainty of his life tightened in him. He genuinely did not know if he was going to live.

It was then that Kyle ambled down the steps, Mysterion catching sight of the boots padding down with certainty. A panic rooted inside him. He should have known Kyle was too hard-headed to listen to him.

“Excuse me,” he said as though he was not disrupting an ancient ritual of sacrifice.

The leader looked to him. “Are you here to save your friend? He is no friend of yours,” the leader spoke with a gesture of the hand directed his way.

“No,” he stepped forward, “I brought him to you, because I wish to witness the beauty of The Old One. I’ve read through the ancient texts, and can only dream to see it.”

The leader, not entirely convinced, leaned forward, curiously observing the book, looking to him.

“I’ve seen everything, I’ve read through the rituals. I wish to become a part of your following.”

He saw Kyle, the belief of what he said written entirely true in his eyes. This had to be an elaborate plan he made up, but then Mysterion thought of Kyle’s behaviour beforehand. Had the eldritch corrupted his mind somehow. How many of these people had gone mad from witnessing the existence of such beings?

“I would be honored to do the sacrifice as a part of my initiation,” he bowed his head respectfully then, and the leader smiled, proud of the outcome.

“Very well, if you wish to prove your worth.”

He took the blade from the dedicated follower, and held it at his neck.

His life was precariously balanced in Kyle’s hands. As the men chanted, the blade on him tightened, and he felt a sliver of blood trickle down his neck.

A noise caused him to tilt his head, glancing behind to see the formation of a portal behind him, blue and purple hues swirling as the air became a beast itself, wind whipping around, threatening to remove his hood.

“Now!” Kyle shouted, resounding over the chanting of the other followers. Glass shattered around the seated cultists, fire erupting at each impact. Chaos ensued, men and woman screaming as their robes were set on fire, others fleeing the building. 

He caught a glimpse of Ike and Karen above, other children lined around them, tossing Molotov cocktails.

The leader cried out to his followers, demanding that they stay, but amidst the chaos he was left unheard.

“This is over,” Kyle stated, flipping through the pages of ancient text. He used his thumb to spread Mysterion’s blood on a page and began to chant.

Outside, the eldritch shrieked in protest of being confined to their own realm once again, returning from where they came.

“No!” the leader hollered. “You can’t permanently close the portal! The Old One will be trapped!” The man grabbed Kyle’s wrist then. “You’re going to come with me and witness the grave mistake you’ve made! Then you’ll see!”

Kyle and the leader fought in a struggle of power as he continued to chant. His boots planted on the ground, using all of his weight to pull back, sliding as the man dragged him towards the portal.

Mysterion jumped forward, punching the leader square in the jaw. Kyle slipped away as his hold loosened.

Taking the opportunity while the man reeled back in surprise, he kicked him harshly, pushing him into the portal. Kyle punctuated the last word, and a few beats later a flash followed.

In the blink of an eye, everything disappeared, darkness swelled around them, the building no longer in place, solid rock beneath them. The faint glow of the moon radiated through the cracks of the cave. 

“Is it really over?” Kyle echoed, voice empty and tired.

“It’s over,” Mysterion answered. “Let’s get the kids and go home.”

They reached the edge of the town after retrieving the children, the sign proudly declaring their location. The sun slowly rose above South Park, casting orange and yellow hues of the surroundings, peaking above the mountains.

The younger children cheered and played as though they had not been through hell and back, tossing snowballs back and forth. Karen and Ike talked to each other in the distance. They would all be home soon.

It still did not feel like the right time, but yet, he took a breath.

“Ky,” he started, using the nickname he so eagerly used throughout a lifetime. He took off his gloves and reached for his mask.

“I know. Instead of Kenny coming to me when Karen went missing, you did. You really think I wouldn’t notice that?” He looked to Kenny, smiling warmly. His hair raided the same warmth his smile did, tinted orange like a gentle campfire providing heat.

Kyle reached out then, taking his hand in his and intertwining their fingers. Kenny smiled.

They watched the sunrise together.


End file.
